Draco Likes Drabbles
by Natsushi
Summary: Inspired by Potter Puppet Pals: Draco Puppet. A selection of one-shots and ficlets centered around Draco Malfoy. Please review! COMPLETE
1. Hamsters

**Draco Likes Drabbles**

I do not own anything. Not Harry Potter, not Potter Puppet Pals.  
Thank you to my sister for planting the nugget of an idea in my mind that grew to be this!

Draco Likes Hamsters

Four-year-old Draco Malfoy stared at the brown-and-white fuzzy lump in his father's hands with questioning gray eyes. The brown-and-white fuzzy lump stared back with curious black ones. "A Hamp-ster, Father?" Draco finally pouted, looking up at Lucius Malfoy.

"Yes, son, a _hamster_. It's to teach you responsibility. You will feed it, play with it, and take care of it." Lucius answered, crouching down to his son's eye level. "You can give it a name, too, if you like."

"Dragon Hampster Malfoy," the little boy decided promptly. "'Cuz he's gotta have a name like me!"

Resisting the urge to chuckle, Lucius agreed, "Dragon Hampster Malfoy it is then." He placed Dragon in the boy's hands. "Take good care of him, Draco. He's your responsibility."

Draco nodded enthusiastically, holding onto the hamster gently. Dragon took an immediate liking to his new friend and cheerfully brushed his nose on the boy's fingers. "He's my 'respunsiblity' Father. I will take good care of him."

"I'm sure you will, son."

For the next four years, Dragon Hampster Malfoy lorded over a corner of Malfoy Manor from his cage in Draco's room. He listened to tantrums thrown against bath-times and heard every exciting detail about Draco learning to tie his shoes. He watched Draco order about House-Elves and gave him a criticizing glare when his potions set blew up. He comforted Draco when he got sent to his room and praised him on the day he properly won an argument with Father Malfoy. He met Draco's friends and studied all of Draco's lessons with him.

One night though, Dragon could not hear Draco call for him or hear his tears. Not the night after that. Nor ever again. Nor did he ever see the picture of a little blonde boy holding a hamster that forever stayed in the wallet of one Draco Malfoy.


	2. Honey

**Draco Likes Drabbles**

Draco Likes Honey

It was a little-known fact that Draco Malfoy was susceptible to the cold. No one would have thought of it, what with him living in the chilly-seeming house of Malfoy and drafty dungeons of Slytherin dormitory. Nevertheless, Draco often caught the sniffles or a minor throat-ache. He got quite good at hiding it, especially when he learned some healing spells. Still, his favorite remedy was when his mother would give him a warm glass of milk and a few tablespoons of honey. The only time she ever set foot in the kitchen was if he was sick. It was also one of the few times she would drop her haughty lady-of-the-house demeanor and just be his Mummy.


	3. Toothpaste

**Draco Likes Drabbles**

Draco Likes Toothpaste  
(K-chk, k-chk, k-chck, k-chk)

"No."

"Just this once?"

"No."

"But he's your son, too!"

"I know. I just don't see how potty-training fits into this."

"Draco, darling, all parents potty-train their children." That was bad. Astoria only ever used 'Darling' if she was mad at him.

"That's what house-elves are for!" he protested.

"No, house-elves do not raise children. We raise our own children. And seeing as I needed to be at St. Mungo's twenty minutes ago to see if we _are_ having a second one or not, _you_ have to make sure our little Scoppy doesn't relieve himself all over the house." Her tone of voice indicated that she was not to be messed with today.

"As you wish," Draco swallowed his pride with a sigh. "Don't get mad if I don't manage it, though."

Astoria smiled evilly, "Oh, if that happens, I'll make sure it finds its way to your side of the bed."

Draco stared at his wife, horrified, "And I thought _I _was raised by Death Eaters."

* * *

"Don't wanna!"

"Come on, Scorpius, _please_?" Draco begged. It was humiliating having to plead with a three-year-old. _How_ Astoria managed to do this without breaking a sweat was beyond him.

"Don't wanna! I wann' more Chokit Frogs!"

"You can have more tomorrow. It's bedtime right now. Please brush your teeth." Draco crossed his arms.

"No! Chokit Frogs!" Logical arguments made no impact on the stubborn boy. "_Please_ Favver?" he begged.

Emotional arguments worked on his father, however. "Fine. One. Just one, okay?" Scorpius' powers of persuasion seemed to have cropped up at an early age.

The young boy nodded dutifully, his eyes glittering as Draco summoned a Chocolate Frog from the hidden stash in the kitchen. The toddler made quick work of the hopping treat, and then stretched up his arms in order to be carried to the bathroom. Somehow, he managed to smear the equivalent of two Frog's worth of chocolate on Draco's crisp white shirt during the short ride.

Sighing, Draco lifted his son to the counter by the sink and handed the toothbrush to his son. At least he knew how to brush by himself; of course, the magically-enhanced utensil helped make sure that children's teeth were cleaned properly. Unfortunately, however, Scorpius was refusing to bring the toothbrush to his lips. "What is it, Scorpius?" he asked patiently.

"Mummy brushes with me."

"Very well." If it would get the adorable hurricane into bed, he would do whatever it took.

"Readysetgo!" Scorpius yelled, furiously brushing his teeth and the two-minute-counter on his brush began ticking down.

Oh, so they raced, Draco thought as he started brushing as well, albeit, a bit more normally. Every once in a while, Scorpius would nudge Draco to distract him and Draco would have to gently shove back to avoid being toppled into the sink. Scorpius thought this was massive fun.

Spitting roughly into the sink, Scorpius squeaked, "I'm done! I win!"

"So you did," Draco laughed, rinsing out his mouth. "Now. Bed."

"I win! I win! I win! I win!" Scorpius crowed as Draco carried him to his room. "Brush 'morrow?"

"Of course, son," Draco smiled.


	4. Money

**Draco Likes Drabbles**

Draco Likes Money

"'_Sanctimonia Vincet Semper_', son. 'Purity Always Conquers'."

"What does that mean?" Draco asked, looking up at Lucius.

"It means," Abraxas Malfoy spoke from his chair by the fire, "that if something is pure, it will endure. It will survive, it will thrive. It will conquer." Draco got the impression that this was not the first time his grandfather gave this speech. Indeed, Lucius looked as if he had heard it a thousand times. "If you have something pure, as is our bloodline, as is our gold, as is our ideal, it is the best over everything that is not pure."

Lucius nodded and took over the narrative, "We have a pure bloodline, Draco. For generations, we have had only wizards and witches in our family. We did not and do not breed with _Muggles_. We kept and keep our lands and our money and our power to ourselves."

"Oh. Very well, Father." He knew about that. Muggles were dumb. They couldn't do magic. How did you live without magic? For years Draco could make objects come to him, or call out to his parents from across the Manor. What would happen if he couldn't do that? Draco couldn't even imagine.

"This is not just something you can dismiss Draco," Abraxas said sharply, his gray eyes were currently as dark as thunderclouds. "In a year's time you will be attending Hogwarts, where you will begin to continue the Malfoy reputation. You _must_ understand what it is to be a Malfoy."

"Yes, Grandfather. I will understand," Draco said meekly. Being a Malfoy seemed complicated. There were rules to follow, etiquette to learn, things to say, clothes to wear, people to know (or not know). Sometimes he wished he could trade places with Greg or Vince, then he wouldn't have to put up with this stuff. It would just be "follow Malfoy's orders" and that would be it. He could play in the dirt and make friends and not have to sit through boring speeches.

Lucius and Abraxas seemed to follow his thoughts. Perhaps, they themselves remembered what it was like, sitting in the impressive black-green-and-silver drawing room while being prepared for greatness. "There are certain…advantages to being a Malfoy, too," Lucius said softly, sitting next to his son on the too-big divan.

Draco knew about those, too. He always had the best robes, the latest broomstick, and no shortage of whatever toy he wanted. All the parents told their children that they _had_ to play nice with him. "I know, Father."

"Good," Abraxas seemed to relax. "Now please go tell that idiot Dobby that he's late with my afternoon tea. We will pick up after dinner."

"Yes, Grandfather," Draco hopped off his seat, bowed slightly to the two men, and bounced out the door.

"Give him some time. He'll make one good Malfoy," Abraxas smiled, remembering a different blond boy not too many years ago.

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**A/N: Thanks for the reviews and favorites and follows everyone! For those who haven't, please do! I'll be posting the other five chapters one-by-one within the next week and a half.**


	5. Facepaint

**Draco Likes Drabbles**

Draco Likes Facepaint

Draco had never smiled so much in one day. He didn't think it was even _possible_ to smile so much in one day. Until he came to Hogwarts, Draco had only ever played with Vincent Crabbe and Gregory Goyle. Once in a while, someone would come to visit his family, and they would bring kids. But he rarely saw them again. He did see Blaise Zabini a few times, and a girl whose name was a flower. Chrysanzenun or something. And recently, Theodore Nott had come twice a month, and they got along well.

But at Hogwarts…

At Hogwarts, Draco was actually _surrounded_ by people his own age. People who liked the same things he did, thought the same way he did. Sure, he was unique—he was a Malfoy, after all. But everyone was unique to some degree, right?

After the end of their first year, Pansy and Theo persuaded him, Crabbe, and Goyle to attend the Midsummer Festival with them. Draco had never been before, as his family saw it as a common and an irrelevant activity. But they let him go when he asked, provided that Crabbe and Goyle went as well. Of course, they were going.

He had not had this much fun since as long as he could remember. An old man took pictures of the five of them as they entered, but when he handed them the photographs, everything was topsy-turvy! Draco had horns and a nose the size of a tomato. He was quite angry, at first, but then he saw the four tails that adorned Crabbe, and the dress that Theo wore, and he couldn't help but see the humor in it. There were all sorts of treats and foods he had never seen. Games booths littered the fairground. Fairies and pixies zipped around overhead. There was a petting zoo where three young unicorns eagerly nipped at the childrens' fingers.

An old wizard ushered them into a facepainting booth, and Draco selected a green dragon. When the young assistant-witch had finished applying it, the make-up glittered and flew around his face, although, he couldn't feel it. Pansy's kitten ran in circles on her forehead, while Crabbe and Goyle's matching skeletons danced on their arms. The children went back to the old man with the camera, who happily snapped a few more photographs. This time, Draco had rabbit-ears and his skin was blue, but the painted dragon had made an appearance, and it was fine.

They went back every year.

* * *

**A/N: Heeere's another one! It's my birthday! Please make it a happy one and give me lots of reviews!**


	6. Pliers

**Draco Likes Drabbles**

Draco Likes Pliers

"What's this?" Draco asked, picking up a box full of various mechanical instruments.

"It's a toolkit," Blaise answered, looking up from his book to see what he was holding. "Those things are called 'pliers'. 'Pli-ers'. They're for unscrewing things."

"I know what pliers are, git. I was just wondering why you have these. We have wands; these are for Muggles and Squibs."

"Why are you going through my things anyway?"

"You're the one who asked me to help you move."

"Yes, _tomorrow_," Blaise rolled his eyes.

"Well, I'm bored." Draco replied. Blaise was moving out of his mother's house because he'd secured a new job in Australia. Something to do with the Australian Wizards' Government needing Potions' experts. Draco thought he just wanted to leave Great Britain. Still, Draco came for his friend, so here he was. "Don't see why you can't pack it all with magic. And where're your House-Elves anyway?"

"It's a bet between me and Mum," Blaise sighed. Clearly, he regretted it now. "If I can manage the next week without magic of any kind, she will send me whatever I need while I get settled in Australia. Otherwise she's not going to lift a finger."

Draco laughed so hard he fell, rather than sat, back into his chair, "What kind of idiotic circumstances lead to _that_?" Blaise muttered something about being drunk the night before, causing another round of hysterics to overcome Draco. "Right, right. I'll try not to use magic either, then. But why not ask Goyle or Theo for help. They'd be much better at carrying things."

Blaise grinned, "I figured if I was going to suffer, my friends should, too."

"And the others aren't included because…?" Draco asked.

"They wouldn't have been as bothered about moving things as you would." He smirked. "Besides, Pansy is busy with her wedding—not that I'd ever ask a girl, mind you—and Theo is currently not speaking to me because of…well, we were drunk last night."

Draco was glad he had declined the invitation from Avery yesterday. "Alright then…"

"Go to your room and go to sleep if you're bored," Blaise groaned, covering his face with a pillow, "Tomorrow we move things like _Muggles_."

Draco snickered and tossed the pliers back into the toolbox on the way out. Sometimes, he wished he had normal friends. Sometimes, he didn't.


	7. Bowling

**Draco Likes Drabbles**

Draco Likes Bowling

The door creaked behind him, but Draco didn't look up. He continued to stare into his teacup as footsteps approached. And he ignored the shuffling sounds of someone sitting in the armchair across from his.

"We gotta stop, Malfoy," the newcomer said quietly.

Draco looked up, he'd been expecting Goyle least of all. "I know," he answered after a moment. It had been a few months after the Battle of Hogwarts. And after everything had been sorted out, after his father had been sent back to Azkaban, after all the apologies they'd written, the people he'd now grown to accept as 'acquaintances' (Weasleys and Malfoys could never become friends), after everything…Vincent Crabbe was still dead. Draco and Goyle had been sulking about, it wasn't healthy. He shouldn't complain—they had lost less than others in the war. But hurts hurt. As far back as Draco could remember Crabbe and Goyle had always been there. No matter what he did, what he said, he could always count on their support. Now, his life was…emptier. "So what do you propose, Greg?" he asked. He hadn't used Gregory's first name in a while. But he'd had enough of these stupid formalities. With the Death Eater hierarchy dead, he didn't want his friends to 'serve' him anymore.

Gregory smiled sadly, "Let's go bowling."

"_What_?"

"You mother agreed it was a good idea. Besides, you—_we_ need to go do something fun." He pointed out.

"Isn't that a Muggle sport?"

"You said we were done with all that Muggle/Wizard stuff."

"I did. Didn't mean I can change overnight."

Gregory rolled his eyes, "Come on Malf—Draco, let's go. Besides, a lot of wizards and witches go bowling, too. It's not just a Muggle thing."

Draco smiled, "Fine. Butterbeers after?"

"Butterbeers after," Gregory agreed.

Unfortunately for them, neither proper bowling nor proper rounds of Butterbeer were in their future. When they arrived, Gregory took care of obtaining bowling shoes and whatnot. The alley that he had picked was run by a lazy old warlock and often frequented by wizards and witches, so Sickles got them inside. "Now what's your shoe size?"

"I don't know. My shoes are custom-made," Draco shrugged. He felt odd in this place that had so much Muggle machinery. Then again, if he wanted to heal the Malfoy name, he had better get used to it.

Gregory did his best not to laugh. Instead he estimated and told the man at the counter what he wanted.

"Malfoy? Goyle?" the two boys turned around to see their ex-classmate Daphne Greengrass standing there with a bowling ball in her hands. "I didn't know you came here!" Daphne has been a Slytherin in their year, but Draco didn't know her very well. For the most part, they had different social circles and, after third year, different classes. He knew she was talkative, but she was very friendly. If you weren't careful, you would find yourself confiding to her as your best friend, Draco had always thought it best to keep at a distance from such people.

"Uh, first time," Draco sniffed, hiding a blush. He didn't expect to meet anyone he actually knew here. He silently told Gregory so with a glare.

"Oh, I come here a lot! Me an' my cousin used to come before he moved to France. He was a Squib, see, so we had to skip a lot of the totally magic stuff." Gregory explained.

"Oh," Draco felt bad. He didn't know this. Well, he knew about the cousin, he just didn't know that Gregory didn't want to tell him about what he got up to. Still, he supposed families kept secrets, Merlin only knew the number the Malfoys had.

Daphne nodded, "That's pretty cool. My sister and our friends come here just about every Saturday."

As if on cue, four girls of various Hogwarts Houses, appeared behind her. "Come on, Daph! What's taking you so long? Oh, hi, Malfoy, Goyle." Mel Smith, a Hufflepuff from their year said.

"Hello," Gregory greeted the girls.

"H-H-H-H…" sputtered Draco, who had never stuttered in his life. Well, at least not since he was seven anyway. Today was a new matter. In front of him was the most beautiful girl he'd ever seen. She was a gorgeous brunette, with the warmest brown eyes, and her smile was just startling.

"…I _said_ 'What are you babbling about'?!" Daphne snapped her fingers in front of his face. Her friends seemed to be enjoying this.

"Oh, um. Nothing. I, uh, spaced out. My Malco Drafoy," he garbled.

"What?" Five girls and Gregory stared at him incredulously.

Of course they knew who he was, he thought after that display of stupidity. He was Draco _Malfoy_, the boy who tried to kill Dumbledore. The boy who Harry Potter hated. He had assumed that if he didn't know them, then they didn't know him. Stupid. If there weren't Muggles in the area, Draco would have Apparated. Gregory was laughing so hard, he had dropped both pairs of bowling shoes and their tickets on the ground. He forced himself to calm down. "Ahem, sorry. Hello, I'm Draco Malfoy." He said for the sake of his pride. He hoped they wouldn't judge him on the past.

"Sylvia Donovan."

"Stephanie Palmer."

"Astoria Greengrass," said the vision of loveliness. Oh, so that's who she was. He knew that Daphne had a younger sister in Ravenclaw. He had met her once or twice in their third year, when the little girl had just come to Hogwarts. He had forgotten all about her. Now that he thought about it, the two looked similar. Although, Astoria was a million-billion times better looking. And her voice…

"Well?" Daphne demanded.

"What?" Draco colored. Since when did he blank out with such frivolous thoughts?

Daphne rolled her eyes, "I was asking you if you were going to go back for that 'Eighth-Year' thing. You know, for all the people who missed education. Like our year. I'm going back. I hear Potter and his pals are going too, though. But oh, well. So is Zabini, and Pansy."

"Yes, absolutely." Draco nodded surely. As long as he could see Ms. Greengrass the younger again.

Gregory stopped sniggering for twenty seconds to interrupt, "But last week, you said—"

Draco stepped on Gregory's toes, causing the bigger boy to dissolve into a puddle of laughter on the floor.

"Would you two like to join us for Butterbeers? We're done after Daph's turn." Astoria said sweetly.

"Since when—" Stephanie began, but it was Astoria's turn to step on her toes.

One bat of her eyelashes was all it took, "Of course."

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**A/N: This is my favorite chapter :3 Anyway, please review! I KNOW people are reading this! Please please? Pretty please?**


	8. Cartwheels

**Draco Likes Drabbles**

Draco Likes Cartwheels

When Draco was two-years-old, his Aunt Bellatrix was sentenced to life in Azkaban. So for the next fourteen years, he had no knowledge of what she was like. He didn't understand why his parents cringed at the mention of her name, or why people called her crazy. In fact, until he met the infamous woman when he was sixteen-years-old, he had only one memory of her.

At the end of the First Wizarding War, many Death Eaters were sent to Azkaban on the spot. Others were met with trials, mostly so that the new Ministry could show off arrest photographs and conviction numbers. Rodolphus Lestrange, caught after torturing the Longbottoms, was sentenced almost immediately. Lucius Malfoy had managed to pull a few strings, and had arranged for a lengthy trial for his sister-in-law, Bellatrix. Until the Aurors had proof, they couldn't storm over and take her, and so, they had to comply with Lucius' games. Unfortunately for everyone, the terms included house arrest at Malfoy Manor.

On a particularly cold November night, Lucius was called away to help Geoffrey Goyle out of some mess or other. Narcissa was tagging along because A) she hadn't seen his wife, Belinda, in a while and; B) Bellatrix was driving her insane. So it was that Draco was at home alone with his aunt ant the House-Elves. Narcissa had wanted to take him, too, but they were Apparating, not Flooing, so Draco had to stay home.

"Stowy," Draco demanded, handing her the cardboard-paged book.

"Aww, is Dwaky-Dwaky bored?" Bellatrix crooned.

"Wass bord?" the little boy asked.

"Never mind. See this is why I don't have kids," she said to Draco, or no one in particular, depending on how one looked at it.

All he replied with was, "Stowy!"

"No, Draco. You have to learn that you can't get everything you want. Not everyone gets a manor and piles of gold and a prince and…well, maybe Cissy does."

Draco didn't know what any of that meant. "Sto-wy!" he whined, attempting to push the book into her hands.

"Oh, Draco, let's do something _fun_. I bet your parents don't let you have fun. They're so stuck up. Come on." She waved her wand, and in a flash, the living room had been replaced by a room of cushions.

Draco's eyes widened. It was like a ginormous bed that he could play on. "Jumpy! Jumpy!" he squealed, trying to run on the bouncy surface. "Auntie look! Jumpy!"

"Yes, Draco. Jumpy." She bounced on her heels. It had been a while since she had a chance for some fun. Putting her hands in the air, she twirled and flipped over. After a double-rotation cartwheel, she stood upright and grinned, "Haha! Bella's still got it!"

"Wow! Auntie go wow!" Draco clapped, trundling over to Bellatrix. "Me too!"

"Uh, I don't think you're quite old enough yet." She smiled at her nephew.

"Me too! Me too! Me too!"

Bellatrix shrugged. With a flick of her wand, Draco rotated upside down and then back right-side up, although, he was slower than Bellatrix had been.

Giggling, Draco squealed, "Again, again! Go again!"

Two hours later, Lucius and Narcissa returned home to find Draco spinning and flipping all around the newly renovated living room. It was a good thing her trial was only two days away or Lucius would have killed Bellatrix himself.

* * *

**A/N: I am SO sorry I haven't updated this in a MONTH! I wanted to finish before the semester started but...anyway, just one more chapter left, which I'll be finishing (hopefully) before next week. As always, please review!**


	9. Fire

**Draco Likes Drabbles**

Draco Likes Fire

It was thirty years to the day since Draco was no longer able to look at fire the same way. Thirty years ago, he thought it was just something that kept cold rooms warm and hurt very badly if you touched it. He knew that some people used it to cook, others to sit around, and still others who used it to burn things out of existence.

But then, then Crabbe had to go and set the Room of Requirement on Fiendfyre. And afterwards, Draco was forever wary of the substance. Sure, he still used it, but people always wondered why Malfoy Manor used the much more difficult Heating Charms instead of just lighting the grate.

Still, thirty years was a long time, and Draco had since come to terms with his old friend's death. He knew that fire—even Fiendfyre—was not inherently evil or wild, it was a tool. And like any other tool, be it a wand or an ax or one of those Muggle guns, tools were wielded by people. Crabbe had had the unfortunate luck and lack of skill to think he was strong enough for something beyond his control.

Now when he looked at the flickering flames, all he saw was years of memory. The warmth reminded him of talking and conspiring with his friends by the Slytherin fireplace; who would go out with whom, and when would Flitwick return their papers? Various shades of gold and orange and red against the flagstones had him recalling sitting with his parents in the wintertime, reciting poems as a boy or—flashing forward a few years—watching his own son do the same. Crackles in the grate brought scenes of cuddling with his wife, and their pet cat when he decided to interfere. But in the back of his mind, of course, he always remembered the face of a young Slytherin boy who was just trying to help.

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**A/N: FINISHED! Aaannndd with only one review. So thanks JeminiaMoon! The rest of you: Reviews? Comments about my work(s)? Suggestions for anything you'd like me to write? Let me know what you think!**


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